


Sparks Fly

by Kestrel337



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fandot Creativity Night, No Beta, Originally Posted to Tumblr, Other, edited since then, quick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel337/pseuds/Kestrel337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emergency procedures are for more than the flight deck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fandot Creativity Night on 8/29/15. At the time, I sort of knew I'd put way too many people in the house. Since then, I've had a look at a transcript and discovered that I'd doubled its occupancy. So some edits have taken place, but I tried to keep to the spirit of the thing by doing it quickly.
> 
> The prompt was "sparks fly".

The smoke alarm at the head of the stairs woke him, and he automatically sat up and looked blearily around the room. The air definitely smelt of smoke; acrid, heavy. Not another burnt pizza then. He slipped out of bed, grabbed his mobile and wallet, and crawled to the door. 

It was cool to the touch. The air in the hallway and staircase was grey and thick, so he kept to his hands and knees, groping his way down to the next story. The first bedroom; David’s. Martin pounded on the door and shouted. “Dave, wake up! The house is on fire!” 

The door popped open, and Martin was confronted with a pair of hairy knees. “Martin? Where...oh!” Realizing his error, Dave dropped to the floor. 

“Get out. Call 999.” Martin gave him a shove toward the stairs before crawling to the next door; Hal’s room. Sometimes Hal’s boyfriend slept over, too. Martin banged on the door and repeated his warning. Geoff opened the door, pushing Hal ahead of him. Martin followed them downstairs, made sure they were headed in the right direction, and turned to the next room. 

“Megan! Get up, get out, the house is on fire!” She crawled out, holding a tee-shirt over her face, and made her way toward the door. The smoke, he’d expected, after the fuselage test, but that hadn’t been lit with flaring orange lights. One bedroom left, and not much time. The carpet was tacky, beginning to melt in the heat, so he dropped lower still and crawled on his elbows in an effort to save his hands.

The largest bedroom was last. George often worked overnights, but Walt would be home. “George! Walter!” Martin wasn’t surprised to get no response; he could barely get enough air to shout. He tried the door, but it wouldn’t open beyond the first inch or so. Through the crack, he saw a long-fingered hand lying on the floor. He shoved, hard, mentally apologizing to the boy for the bruises he’d certainly have, and grabbed one limp arm. Pulling Walt over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, he scanned the room for George. The room was empty. Martin had done all he could; time to get out. He staggered slightly, then forced himself to stagger out the door and through the main room. Outside, the students had gathered at a safe distance from the house. Sirens wailed in the distance. Martin crossed the street and let the others take Walter from him. The other man was coughing now, coming round in the cleaner air, and Martin sagged with relief, sinking onto the kerb. 

A crashing noise drew his attention away from the phone, and he saw that the roof had finally given way, smoke and sparks pouring out of the burning house. He glanced down at his hand, saw that he’d kept hold of his mobile through it all, and hit the speed dial for Douglas. He’d need someplace to stay, and Douglas had offered more than once before. Time to let Mr Richardson save the day.


End file.
